Into My Own
Robert Frost
Acquainted With the Night
The Armful
The Black Cottage
Blue-Butterfly Day
A Boundless Moment
The Code
The Death of the Hired Man
Departmental
The Door in the Dark
A Dream Pang
Dust of Snow
Evening in a Sugar Orchard
Fire and Ice
Flower-Gathering
Fragmentary Blue
The Generations of Men
Ghost House
In Hardwood Groves
In Neglect
Into My Own
The Kitchen Chimney
Love and a Question
Mending Wall
The Mountain
My Butterfly
My November Guest
Nothing Gold Can Stay
October
The Onset
Out, Out --
The Oven Bird
Pan with Us
A Patch of Old Snow
A Peck of Gold
A Prayer in Spring
Reluctance
Revelation
The Road Not Taken
Sand Dunes
Spring Pools
Stars
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
The Thatch
To E.T.
The Trial by Existence
The Tuft of Flowers
The Vanishing Red
The Vantage Point
A Winter Eden
The Wood-Pile
One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom, But stretched away unto th eedge of doom. I should not be withheld but that some day into their vastness I should steal away, Fearless of ever finding open land, or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand. I do not see why I should e'er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear. They would not find me changed from him the knew-- Only more sure of all I though was true.